''A''7      -V. 


THE 

SILVER  TRUMPETS 


BY 

ROBERT  J.  BURDETTE,  D.D. 

Pastor  Emeritus.  Temple  Baptist  Church, 
Los  Angeles,  California 


PHILADELPHIA 

The  Sunday  School  Times  Company 
1031    Walnut   Street 


Copyright,    1912,  by 
THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  TIMES  COMPANY. 


To  My  Dear 
CHILDREN  OF  THE  TEMPLE 

Beloved  and  Longed  For 

MY  JOY  AND  MY  CROWN 

To  the  Congregation  of  Temple  Baptist  Church 

of 

LOS  ANGELES 
The    Call    of    the    Silver    Trumpets 

to 

WORSHIP  AND  SERVICE 

Is    Most    Affectionately 

DEDICATED 


2021381 


FOREWORD 


Once  upon  a  time,  when  I  was  Pastor  of  the  Temple 
Baptist  Church  in  a  city  in  California,  the  name  of 
which  is  "La  Puebla  de  Nuestra  Senora,  Reina  de 
Los  Angeles,"  which  by  interpretation  is  "  The  Town 
of  Our  Lady,  Queen  of  the  Angels,"  and  which  by 
common  usage  is  written  Los  Angeles  and  called  by 
many  mispronunciations,  I  said  to  the  Pastoress,  "  What 
shall  I  give  you  for  a  Christmas  present?  It  shall  be 
given  thee,  even  to  the  half  of  the  kingdom."  And 
Achsah,  knowing  well  that  my  entire  kingdom  con- 
sisted of  a  pen,  a  bottle  of  ink,  some  few  reams  of  arable 
paper,  and  certain  non-taxable  properties  which  are 
denominated  in  the  bond  as  brains,  promptly  asked 
for  the  half  of  my  realm  and  reams  that  grew  the  rhymes. 
"  For  that  thou  hast  set  me  in  the  land  of  the  South," 
she  said,  quoting  from  her  story  in  the  Book  of  Joshua, 
and  meaning  that  I  had  written  for  her  many  reams 
of  prose  and  much  unmeasured  prosiness,  "  give  me 
also  springs  of  water."  And  I  knew  that  she  wanted 
the  fields  of  prose  irrigated  by  rippling  rivulets  of  rhyme. 
For  she  said,  in  plain  English,  "  I  want  you  to  write 
for  me  this  year,  for  the  first  page  of  The  Temple  Herald 
(our  church  calendar),  every  Sunday  morning  a  little 
poem."  And,  like  Caleb  of  old,  I  "  gave  her  the  upper 
and  the  nether  springs."  Every  Sunday  for  a  year 
I  wrote  a  prelude  to  the  morning  sermon,  based  upon  its 


text,  and  printed  it  on  the  first  page  of  The  Temple 
Herald.  And  these  are  the  poems. 

And  I  have  called  the  little  Collect  of  the  Year 
"  The  Silver  Trumpets  "  because  they  appeared  first 
in  our  Sabbath  service;  because  they  were  read,  and 
therefore  heard,  as  the  assembly  was  gathering;  because 
they  gave  the  signal  for  the  morning  worship  and  for 
the  journey  of  the  congregation  during  that  week.  Where- 
fore, I  found  the  title  for  the  poems  already  written  for 
me  in  the  Book  of  Numbers  10  :  2,  3: 

"  And  Jehovah  spake  unto  Moses,  saying,  Make 
thee  two  trumpets  of  silver;  of  beaten  work  shall  thou 
make  them:  and  thou  shall  use  them  for  the  calling 
of  the  congregation,  and  for  the  journeying  of  the 
camps.  And  when  they  shall  blow  them,  all  ihe 
congregation  shall  galher  ihemselves  unlo  ihee  at  ihe 
door  of  ihe  lent  of  the  meeting." 

The  echoes  of  ihe  Silver  Trumpels  are  very  dear  lo 
ihe  Paslor  who  sounded  ihe  calls  in  ihe  years  from  1 903 
lo  1 909,  for  ihey  are  the  voices  of  the  worshippers  who 
sang  ihe  songs  of  Zion  in  ihe  Tenl  of  ihe  Meeting,  and 
chanled  ihe  marching  music  of  the  Church  along  the 
way  of  the  Pilgrimage.  And  he  hopes  they  may  once 
more  sound  pleasantly  to  the  past  and  ihe  presenl 
mighty  Congregations  of  ihe  Temple,  which  on  ihe 
recurring  Sabbalh  days  still  ihrong  ihe  House  beyond 
its  doors,  even  while  iheir  uncounted  numbers  are  scal- 
tered  in  long  skirmish  lines  and  serried  columns  from 
ihe  Sunrise  lo  ihe  Sunset 

ROBERT  J.  BURDETTE. 

"  Sunnycrert,"  Eastertide,  1912. 

6 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Page 

"  New  Every  Morning  " 9 

The  Sower 10 

"God's  Fellow- Workers" II 

Wasting  and  Saving  Time 12 

Enlisted  for  Life 13 

The  Temple  Jewels 14 

The  Roll  Call 15 

Easter  Dawn 16 

"  Behold,  I  Stand  at  the  Door  and  Knock " 17 

"Out  of  the  Depths" 18 

The  Law 19 

Christmas  Morning.     The  Path  to  the  Throne 20 

"A  Mother-Boy" 21 

My  Guide 22 

"  Am  I  My  Brother's  Keeper  ?" 23 

The  Potter's  Clay 24 

Bound  and  Free 25 

"And  Peter!" 26 

The  Sins  that  Sting 27 

Bricks  Without  Straw 28,  29 

"  With  Your  Shield  or  On  It " 30 

The  Gray  Days 31 

"Thy  Kingdom  Come" 32 

7 


The  Court  of  the  King 33 

"  Whither  Thou  Goest  I  Will  Go " 34 

Mother's  Version 35 

Bartimaeus 36,  37 

The  Fourth  Comrade 38 

Manger  and  Throne 39 

"  Other  Sheep  Have  I  " 40 

"  Keep  Sweet  and  Keep  Movin'  " 41 

The  Tale  of    the    Ages 42 

"  More  Than  They  All  " 43 

"All  Right  Here!" 44,  45 

"  Peace  I  Leave  with  You  " 46 

"My  Lord  and   My  God" 47 

"  But—" 48,  49 

Love  Triumphant 50 

Christ's  Pilgrim-Soldier 51 

Taking  the  Chances 52 

"  Jesus  Only  " 53 

The  Rich  Ruler 54,  55 

Faint  Heart 56 

The  Teacher 57 

Love  that  Saves 58 

Through  Strife  to  Peace 59 

"The  Light  of  the  World" 60,  61 

Dreams  and  Visions 62,  63 

The  Shepherd 64,  65 

Courage  and  Love 66 

"Abide  With  Us  " 67 

"At  Evening  Time  It  Shall  Be  Light " 68 

8 


THE 

SILVER    TRUMPETS 


"NEW  EVERY  MORNING" 

Grant  us  new  visions  of  thy  glory,  Lord, 

Not  Sinai's  splendor,  for  that  glimpse  is  past; 

Nor  Pentecost,  with  all  thy  grace  out-poured, 
For  that  is  ours,  while  time  and  love  shall  last. 

Nor  sad  Gethsemane — its  grieving,  sweet  and  low; 

Nor  Calvary's  blood  stained  cross — these  things  we  know. 

But  greater  visions  of  Thy  glory  yet; 

Suns  that  shall  rise — not  suns  forever  set; 

Beyond  the  horizon's  rim,  unrisen  stars; 

New  days  that  sleep  beyond  the  morning's  bars; 

New  heights  to  scale  by  paths  man  never  trod — 

Grant  us  new  visions  of  Thy  Glory,  God! 


THE  SOWER 

In  the  earliest  light  of  the  kindling  dawn — so  short  is 

the  longest  day, 
Over  the  ploughman's  furrowed  trail,  I  bend  my  hopeful 

way; 
From  my  praying  heart  to  my  watching  eyes,  the  anxious 

tears  will  rise, 
As  I  wonder  to  what  my  sowing  will  come,  when  the 

day  of  the  seed-time  dies? 

For  the  circling  birds  will  snatch  the  grain  that  falls 

on  the  wayside  bare; 
And  noxious  germs  of  strangling  thorns  lie  hid  in  the 

furrows  fair; 
There  are  stony  places  that  give  me  fear,  where  never 

the  wheat  may  hold — 
Dear  Lord  of  the  Harvest,  what  of  my  field,  when  the 

sowing  should  be  gold? 

But  I  scatter  the  seed,  and  I  try  to  veil  my  tears  under 
hopeful  smiles, 

By  all  rivers  I  sow,  at  my  Lord's  command;  then  I'll 
wait  for  the  afterwhiles, 

When  His  reapers  shall  come  with  shout  and  song,  in 
the  golden  harvest  sun. 

And  I'll  sing  with  the  best,  when  He  calls  to  me,  "  Faith- 
ful and  good,  Well  Done!" 


10 


"GOD'S  FELLOW- WORKERS" 

"  For  we  are  God's  fellow -workers ;    ye  are  God's  husbandry, 
God's  building." — 1  Corinthians    3:9. 

Many  there  be  in  the  harvest  days — 

Laughter,  and  shouting,  and  song, 
Carols  of  blessing — chorus  of  praise 

To  the  reaping  time  belong. 

But  alone — "  A  Sower  went  forth  to  sow"; 

Where  the  plough  had  broken  the  sod; 
And  a  holier  joy  than  the  Reaper's  I  know 

As  I  walk  down  the  furrows  with  God. 


II 


WASTING  AND  SAVING  TIME 

Time  laves  around  us  like  waves  of  the  sea — 

Winds  of  the  desert  for  leisure  and  motion; 
Eternity  was,  and  again  it  will  be — 

Time  flows  between  like  the  tides  of  the  ocean; 
Childhood  for  playing,  and  manhood  for  gain, 

Winters  for  pleasure  and  summers  for  roving; 
Years  for  ambitions  we  purchase  with  pain, 

Minutes  for  friendship  and  Seconds  for  loving. 

Let  us  spend  richly  the  red  gold  of  Time; 

Purchasing  friendships  that  death  cannot  sever; 
Buying  the  Truth  with  its  treasures  sublime, 

Seeking  the  love  that  will  love  us  forever. 
Laughter  of  childhood;  and  friendship  of  men; 

These  are  worth  while  for  life's  richest  adorning; 
Let  us  give  most  to  our  dearest — and  then 

Joy  will  abide  at  Eternity's  morning. 


ENLISTED  FOR  LIFE 

For  Christ  and  Truth  forever;  for  God  and  Right  I  stand; 
Love  will  preserve  me  heart-pure;  Honor  shall  strengthen 

my  hand; 

Faith  will  inspire  my  courage;  Duty  my  law  shall  be: 
And  I'll  live,  and  do,  and  die  for  the  Christ  who  died 

and  lives  for  me. 


THE  TEMPLE  JEWELS 

"Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me." 

Ripples  of  laughter,  sweeter  than  songs  of  the  morning; 
Thoughts  that  are  purer  than  gold  in  the  furnace 

refined; 
Voices  more  precious  than  gems  of  a  scepter's  adorning; 

Prayers  that  are  ornaments  rare  of  the  loving  mind. 
Grace  of  the  Spirit,  the  coronet  for  their  crowning; 
Lilies  of  holiness,  fairer  than  blossoms  of  spring; 
Smiles  of   soul-sunshine,    that   banish   the  shadows   of 

frowning — 

These  be  our  Jewels,  dear  Lord,  to  thy  treasures  we 
bring. 


14 


THE  ROLL  CALL 

I  may  reel  to  my  death  in  some  fierce  fight 
And  trampling  squadrons  gallop  over  me  ; 

And  never  sun-bright  day  or  cloudy  night 
Shall  find  the  soldier  that  I  used  to  be. 

I  may  fall  fainting  as  my  name  is  said 

In  the  thinned  ranks  that  answer  sunset  call ; 

Nor  hear  the  sergeant  answer  for  me,  "Dead!" 
Nor  feel  the  comrade  catch  me  as  I  fall. 

I  may  die,  wounded,  where  the  swamp  vines  creep ; 

Or  in  some  prison  foul  be  left  to  die ; 
Or  yawning  waves  may  drag  me  down  the  deep — 

I  will  die  fighting — always  loyal — I. 

For  the  dear  colors  on  my  glazing  eyes 

Will  kiss  their  emblems  as  I  yield  to  death ; 

My  fainting  heart  will  throb  the  name  I  prize, 
And  "Victory!"  I  will  shout  with  dying  breath. 

Then,  when  my  King  shall  call  the  roll  of  Grace, 
I'll  stand  attention  at  his  accents  clear ; 

And  when  my  name  is  called,  in  duty's  place, 
Glad  and  triumphant,  shout  my  answering  "Here!' 


EASTER  DAWN 

"  Why  seek  ye  the  living  among  the  dead  ?" — Luke  24  :  5. 

For  Love  is  stronger  than  Death;  his  lilies  live 

White  on  the  blackest  pall  that  Death  can  spread; 
His  songs  to  nights  of  fear  Faith's  radiance  give, 

His  garlands  grace  with  life  the  sleeping  dead. 
In  sunshine  sweet  his  perfumed  roses  bloom, 

Fairest  where  Death's  destroying  feet  have  trod, 
Wreathing  the  crumbling  marbles  of  the  tomb, 

Till  Earth's  grave-altar  breathes  incense  to  God. 
Long,  long  ere  Sin  to  Death  gave  lifeless  birth, 

Love  sang  joy-songs  of  life  in  Heaven  above; 
He  runs  before  all  life  that  blesses  earth, 

And  will,  till  Death  shall  sing  the  life  of  Love. 


16 


"BEHOLD,  I  STAND  AT  THE  DOOR 
AND  KNOCK" 

I  sit  in  the  inner  darkness  of  my  heart's  sin-darkened 

room; 
My  soul  and  my  eyes  are  aching,  straining  to  pierce 

the  gloom. 

My  only  companions  are  Shadows — the  darker  Shapes 

of  the  Night; 
And  Day  and  Night  are  as  one  to  me — as  one,  the 

Darkness  and  Light. 

I  could  have  the  Peace  of  the  Starshine,  crowning  the 

night  with  Love; 
I  might  see  the  Dawn  unfold  like  a  Rose  in  the  kindling 

skies  above. 

I    could    have   the   Glory  of   Noontide   like   flood   of 

molten  gold 
When  the  flaming  Gates  of  Heaven  above  the  shouting 

World  unfold. 

And  the  Twilight  would  come  to  bless  me — folding 

me  on  her  breast- 
Tender  and  gray  as  the  Breast  of  a  Dove — hushing  my 

Soul  to  Rest. 

For  the  "  Light  of  the  World "  stands  waiting  these 

Blessings  to  impart; 
I  hear  Him  patiently  knocking  at  the  Door  of  my  sunless 

heart. 

He  is  Mine,  I  know,  if  I  bid  Him  come  in — My  Lord 

forevermore — 
But  He'll  never  come  into  my  Darkened  Room,  till 

I  open  for  Him  the  door. 

2  17 


"OUT  OF  THE  DEPTHS" 

"  Out  of  the  depths  have  I  cried  unto  thee,  O  Lord." 

Out  of  the  depths  of  Pain — 
When  weary  nights  were  measured  unto  me, 

And  the  long  day's  refrain 
Was  timed  by  moans  that  told  my  misery; 

Out  of  the  depths  of  Fear, 
When  whispers  smote,  and  shadows  terrified; 

Out  of  the  depths  so  drear 
Of  Folly,  Sin,  and  Ignorance  I  cried 

To  Thee,  O  God  above. 
But  Thou  didst  pray  for  me,  O  Christ  who  died, 

Out  of  the  depths  of  Love. 


18 


THE  LAW 

Holiness,  Majesty,  Love  and  Strength — 

Yesterday,  Now,  and  Forever — Amen! 
Clasping  the  world  in  its  breadth  and  length, 

Throned  on  the  changing  ages  of  Now  and  Then. 
God  changes  not!    His  Law  holds  sway 

Over  the  soul,  and  the  mind,  and  the  hand; 
"Till  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away," 

God's  "  shall  "  and  "  shall  not  "  forever  will  stand. 


CHRISTMAS  MORNING 

The  Path  to  the  Throne 

My  Baby,  would  you  reign?    Then,  must  you  Love; 

Love  is  the  fadeless  crown's  unfading  Gem; 
And  if  you  Love,  then  must  you  Suffer,  Little  Dove — 

The  Crown  of  Thorns  precedes  the  Diadem. 


20 


"A  MOTHER-BOY" 

Mother-Boys  " — first  in  the  world's  great  needs — 
Gentle,  and  noisy,  and  rough,  and  clean; 

Pure  thoughts  prompting  the  noble  deeds, 
Love  for  the  Good  and  hate  for  the  Mean. 

Speaking  the  Truth,  and  fearing  naught; 
Serving  the  Right  for  Honor's  joys; 

Manhood  and  conscience  that  can't  be  bought — 

"  God's  Men  "  grow  out  of  "  Mother-Boys." 


21 


MY  GUIDE 

There  is  no  path  in  this  desert  waste, 

For  the  winds  have  swept  the  shifting  sands; 
The  trail  is  blind  where  the  storms  have  raced, 

And  a  stranger,  I,  in  these  fearsome  lands. 
But  I  journey  on  with  a  lightsome  tread; 

I  do  not  falter  nor  turn  aside; 
For  I  see  His  figure,  just  ahead — 

He  knows  the  way  that  I  take — My  Guide. 

There  is  no  path  in  this  trackless  sea; 

No  map  is  lined  on  the  restless  waves; 
The  ocean  snares  are  strange  to  me 

Where  the  unseen  wind  in  its  fury  raves; 
But  it  matters  naught;  my  sails  are  set, 

And  my  swift  prow  tosses  the  seas  aside; 
For  the  changeless  stars  are  steadfast  yet, 

And  I  sail  by  His  star-blazed  trail — My  Guide. 

There  is  no  way  in  this  starless  night; 

There  is  naught  but  cloud  in  the  inky  skies; 
The  black  night  smothers  me,  left  and  right, 

I  stare  with  a  blind  man's  straining  eyes; 
But  my  steps  are  firm,  for  I  cannot  stray; 

The  path  to  my  feet  seems  light  and  wide; 
For  I  hear  His  voice — "  I  am  the  Way!" 

And  I  sing  as  I  follow  Him  on — My  Guide. 


"AM  I  MY  BROTHER'S  KEEPER?" 

How  can  I  sleep  in  peace,  while  the  wreck  pounds  off 

the  shore, 
And  "  God's  Men  "  wake  like  giants  to  fight  Death 

face  to  face? 

How  can  I  eat  with  delight,  while  slinking  past  my  door, 
Gaunt  Hunger  hisses  a  curse  as  his  "  Amen  "  to  my 

grace? 
Could  I  sit  here  at  my  ease,  'midst  the  sorrows  I  daily 

meet, 
I  could  be  happy  in  Heaven,  while  Hell  howled  round 

my  feet. 


THE  POTTER'S  CLAY 

Mould  me  of  faults,  dear  Lord,  but  shape  me  fair- 
Pride,  Hate,  and  Fear — I  will  not  blush  nor  care; 
Too  proud  to  stoop  my  soul  to  things  unclean, 
Hating  all  actions  sordid,  base,  and  mean; 
Afraid  to  trust  myself  to  passion's  sway; 
Fearing  to  walk  without  thee  for  one  day. 
Make  me  thine  armor-bearer  in  the  strife, 
Loving  thy  standard  better  than  my  life; 
Thy  bond  slave — anything  to  keep  me  near 
Thy  truth — to  me  than  all  the  world  more  dear. 
Make  me  each  day  a  little  more  like  Thee — 
God-man  of  men — thou  Man  of  Galilee! 


24 


BOUND  AND  FREE 

Pilate  the  Roman  hath  washed  his  hands;  Barabbas 
the  Robber  is  free; 

My  feet  are  light  as  the  wings  of  a  bird;  no  one  is  chained 
save  Thee. 

Thy  hands,  O  Christ  the  Thorn-crowned,  with  the  bight 
of  my  guilt  are  bound — 

What  if  my  sins  could  hold  them  fast — where  were  de- 
liverance found? 

Pilate  beside  Thee;  I  at  Thy  feet;  pointing  our  hands  at 

Thee- 
Barabbas   shouting    "  Away   with   Him!"     All   blind, 

that  we  could  not  see 
The  whole  world  turning  to  where  He  stood  between 

the  cross  and  the  spears, 
With  the  dear  hands  bound,  that  held  the  grace  and 

peace  of  the  coming  years. 


"AND  PETER!" 

Turn,  turn  away  thy  face,  dear  Lord,  I  cannot  bear 

That  Thou  shouldst  look  on  me; 
Death  cannot  veil  that  look  of  grief  and  care 

I  wrung  from  Thee! 

Blindness  can  ne'er  shut  out  that  glance  of  pain; 
And  I  can  never  see  Thy  face  again 
Nor  speak  Thy  name,  but  burning  tears  will  fall; 
Yet  sweet  as  manna  to  my  soul  Thy  call — 
'  Tell  my  disciples,  Angel,  tell  them  all  " — 
"  And  me!" 

O  Son  of  God!     My  throbbing  heart  will  break 

For  love  of  Thee! 
My  face  from  out  the  dust  how  can  I  take 

To  look  on  Thee? 

Still,  still  to  all  the  world  Thy  message  goes — 
To  all  the  sons  of  men,  through  tears  and  woes; 
Love,  love  unmeasured,  throbs  in  every  tone; 
Tell  my  disciples,  Angel,  every  one  " — 
Then  sweetly  comes  its  word  to  me  alone — 
"  And  me!" 


26 


THE  SINS  THAT  STING 

My  voice  unkind — like  fretful  winds  that  blow — 

May  God's  love  send  it  music,  sweet  and  low — 

Hath  wreathed  a  grieving  mouth  with  quivering  pain, 

And  dimmed  the  tender  eyes  with  tears  like  rain. 

If  I  had  known,  I  had  not  trampled  down 

The  violets  Love  had  twined  into  a  crown; 

If  I  had  only  known,  how  all  day  long 

My  thoughtless  words  had  been  thy  sobbing  song; 

If  I  had  known  with  what  a  bitter  smart 

My  careless  taunt  had  rankled  in  thy  heart; 

Had  I  but  known  how  keenly  it  had  stung — 

The  idle  jest,  forgotten  on  my  tongue — 

I  say,  "  I  did  not  think;  nor  mean  to;  I  forgot." 

Love  always  thinks,  and  knows,  and  faileth  not. 

Dear  Christ — Forgive  our  sins  against  our  (/wn; 

The  thoughtlessness  that  drives  Thee  from  Love's  throne; 

Forgive  our  sins — with  pleading  soul  we  pray — 

The  cruel  things  "we  did  not  mean  to  say." 


BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW 

More  than  four  thousand  years  ago — 

Shadows  of  time,  how  the  days  go  by! 

There  was  a  man  I  used  to  know — 

May  seem  strange,  but  you'll  see  it's  so 
After  I  tell  you  the  reason  why; 

Worked  in  a  brickyard,  same  as  you 

And  all  the  rest  of  us  have  to  do; 

Mixed  in  the  trouble  and  worry  and  strife, 

The  mirth,  and  the  other  things  of  life. 

Stirred  in  the  hopes,  and  the  pains,  and  fears, 

Kneaded  the  mud  with  his  sweat  and  his  tears, 

Humanest  mass  that  ever  you  saw — 

Poor  brick,"  said  the  man,  "  but  I  have  no  straw. 

Up  to  his  knees  in  the  miry  pit — 
A  pigmy's  way,  but  a  giant's  grit; 
His  back  was  a  chain  of  throbbing  aches, 
Lifting  the  mold  with  its  earthen  cakes; 
Elbows  rusty  as  hinges  of  steel; 
Knees  so  lame  he  could  hardly  kneel; 
Mud  so  stiff  it  would  clog  a  plow, 
And  couldn't  be  stirred  with  a  wheel  nohow; 
Nights  as  short  as  the  days  were  long, 
Nothing  seemed  right,  and  everything  wrong; 
'  Best  I  can  do,"  said  the  man,  "  but,  pshaw! 
Can't  make  good  brick  when  you  have  no  straw!' 
28 


Taskmasters  pitiless  lashed  the  man — 
'  Can't!"  sobbed  Weakness,  but  Courage  cried  "  Can!' 
'  Don't!"  said  Despair,  but  Duty  cried  "  Do!" 
'  All  right,"  said  the  man,  "  I'll  worry  her  through! 
Can't  do  much,  and  I  reckon  you'll  see 
Brick  won't  be  just  what  they  ought  to  be; 
Ain't  nigh  so  good  as  I  know  I  could  make 
If  I  just  had  straw;  but  you'll  have  to  take 
The  best  I  can  do  for  the  work's  own  sake." 

He  finished  his  tale  of  brick,  and  then 

Went  home  to  rest.    And  the  sons  of  men 

Looked  on  his  perfect  work,  and  saw 

He'd  have  spoiled  the  brick,  had  he  put  in  straw. 


"WITH  YOUR  SHIELD  OR  ON  IT" 

Foot-prints  of  blood  in  Valley  Forge  snows; 

Stains  where  the  Cumberland  sank  in  the  sea; 
Crimson  the  life  tide  down  Bunker  Hill  flows; 

Red  drips  the  rain  from  a  Gettysburg  tree. 

Are  you  a  Man — and  shrink  from  a  fight? 

Are  you  a  Soldier — and  faint  at  a  wound? 
Victory  dies  of  nothing  but  fright; 

Valor  o'erthrown  is  Victory  crowned. 

Fight — for  the  glory  of  striking  a  blow; 

Bleed — for  the  honor  of  wearing  a  wound; 
Die — for  the  praise  you  will  wrest  from  the  foe; 

Sleep — that  your  story  may  spring  from  the  ground. 

You  shall  come  triumphing  home — on  your  shield; 

Broken,  your  sword  shall  repose  on  your  breast; 
While  your  comrades  unscathed,  marching  home  from 
the  field 

With  their  glad  war  songs  will  sing  you  to  rest. 


THE  GRAY  DAYS 
Evermore  all  the  days  are  long,  and  the  cheerless  skies 

are  gray, 
Restlessly  wander  the  baffling  winds  that  scatter  the 

blinding  spray, 
And  the  drifting  currents  come  and   go  like  serpents 

across  my  way. 

Wearily  fades  the  evening  dim,  drearily  wears  the  night, 
The  ghostly  mists,   and  the  hurrying  clouds,   and  the 

breakers'  crests  of  white 
Have  blotted  the  stars  from  the  desolate  skies;  have 

curtained  them  from  my  sight. 
Speeding    alone,   my  wave-tossed    bark   encounters  no 

passing  sail. 
Welcoming  friend  nor  challenging  foe  answers  my  eager 

hail- 
Only  the  sobbing,   restless  waves  and  the  wind's  un- 
ceasing wail. 

Hopefully  still  my  sails  are  bent,  my  Pilot  is  faultlessly  true, 
He  holds  my  course  as  though  the  seas  and  the  mirrored 

skies  were  blue, 
And  the  port  of  peace,  where  the  winds  are  still,  were 

evermore  in  view. 
For  over  the  spray  and  the  rain  and  the  clouds  shines 

the  eternal  sun, 
The  stars  of  God  in  the  curtained  dome  still  gleam  when 

the  day  is  done, 
And  the  mists  will  be  kissed  from  the  laughing  skies 

when  the  port  of  rest  is  won. 
31 


"THY  KINGDOM  COME" 

"  Thy  Kingdom  Come!" 
Into  the  ways  of  human  woe 
Where  moans  and  heartaches  come  and  go; 
Where  the  wild  storms  of  sorrow  sweep, 
Where  anxious  souls  lone  vigils  keep, 
Where  eyes  with  weeping  ache  and  burn, 
Where  longing  hearts  for  day-break  yearn, 
Shine  with  the  brightness  of  Thy  face, 
Gleam  with  the  beauty  of  Thy  grace — 

"  Thy  Kingdom  Come!" 

"  Thy  Kingdom  Come!" 
O'er  War's  red  fields  rough-plowed  by  fire, 
In  lives  weed-grown  with  foul  desire; 
In  souls  of  men  ice-hard  and  cold, 
Chilled  by  the  death-like  greed  of  gold; 
Into  base  lives  of  lustfulness, 
Dry-rotted  hearts  of  selfishness, 
Into  the  pleasures,  vain  and  light, 
Into  the  shame-tracked  ways  of  night, 
Shine  with  the  splendor  from  above, 
The  pure  white  light  of  Saving  Love — 

"  Thy  Kingdom  Come!" 


THE  COURT  OF  THE  KING 

Never  the  gleam  of  a  jewel;  nor  the  sweep  of  a  purple 

gown; 
Never  a  tent  of  the  cloth  of  gold,  nor  radiant  flame  of  a 

crown; 
Never  the  flash  of  a  diadem;  nor  the  sheen  of  the  serried 

spears; 
Nor  heralds  proclaiming  the  greatness  of  the  line  of  a 

thousand  years; 
Princekin,  or  noble,  or  lordling — not  one  of  the  little 

great  men 
Marshals  his  train  to  meet  him — chief  of  the  thousands 

ten; 
But  the  singing  of  little  children;  the  chant  of  a  simple 

psalm; 
The  acclamations  of  women;  the  pathway  of  robe  and 

palm; 
The  shouting  of  humble  toilers;  and  the  glad  earth's 

blossoming — 
This  is  the  Royal  Progress — this  is  the  Court  of  the  King! 


33 


"WHITHER  THOU  GOEST  I  WILL  GO" 

How  can  I  say,  "  If  aught  but  Death  part  ever  Thee 

and  me!" 
When  Death,  dear  Lord,  is  a  guide  that  brings  my 

closest  soul  to  Thee? 
Close  to  the  hands  that  soothed  my  pain;  the  voice 

that  stilled  my  fears; 
The  strength  that  lifted  my  grievous  load;  the  love  that 

kissed  my  tears; 
The  smile  that  lightened  my  darkest  gloom;  the  sunlight 

of  Thy  face; 
The  pardon  in  Thy  living  word;  the  refuge  of  Thy 

grace,— 
Death  part  us,   Lord?     I'll  sing  with  joy;  I'll  laugh 

when  he  speaks  to  me 
By  the  sepulcher's  door:     "  The  Master  is  come,  and 

calleth  now  for  thee." 


34 


MOTHER'S  VERSION 

This  is  the  Bible  she  left  her  boy,  that  youth,  with  its 

eagle  sight, 
Might  vision  profounder  depths  of  joy,  see  truth  at  a 

clearer  height; 
When  it  looked  through  the  bitter  sweet  alloy  of  tears 

by  Love  made  bright. 

This  is  the  Bible  she  used  to  read;  its  markings  here  and 
there 

Tell  where  she  found  its  peaceful  meed;  where  she  lin- 
gered in  silent  prayer; 

Where  her  heart  was  heavy  with  sorest  need;  where  the 
skies  were  dull  or  fair. 

See,   where   the  blistered   letters  show   the   tears   that 

dimmed  the  line, 
While,  under  the  drifting  mist,  we  know  how  the  gems 

of  truth  would  shine; 
Where  the  precious  text  is  blurred  the  most,  we  read 

the  sweetest  line. 

For  the  Bible  she  read  is  a  palimpsest — the  word  of  God 

runs  true, 
Though,   written  over  its  messages  blest,  the  lines  of 

human  rue 
Are  penned  in  tears  from  a  soul  distressed,  as  a  rose  is 

gemmed  with  dew. 

And  the  text  is  dearer,  its  truth  made  strong,  more  bless- 
ing the  promises  bring, 

Sweeter  and  clearer,  more  joyous  the  song  Faith  taught 
her  soul  to  sing, 

As  purer  tints  to  the  lilies  belong,  for  the  pain  of  their 
blossoming. 

35 


BARTIMAEUS 

"  And  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him  :  What  wilt  thou  that 
I  should  do  unto  thee  ?  The  blind  man  said  unto  him,  Lord,  that  I 
might  receive  my  sight." 

I  would  receive  my  sight:   my  clouded  eyes 
Miss  the  glad  radiance  of  the  morning  sun, 

The  changing  tints  that  glorify  the  skies 

With  roseate  splendors  when  the  day  is  done; 

The  shadows  soft  and  gray,  the  pearly  light 

Of  summer  twilight  deep'ning  into  night. 

I  cannot  see  to  keep  the  narrow  way, 
And  so  I  blindly  wander  here  and  there, 

Groping  amidst  the  tombs;  or  helpless  stray 

Through  pathless,  tangled  deserts,  bleak  and  bare; 

Weeping  I  seek  the  way  I  cannot  find — 

Open  my  eyes,  dear  Lord,  for  I  am  blind. 

And  oft  I  laugh  with  some  light,  thoughtless  jest, 
Nor  see  how  anguish  lines  some  face  most  dear, 

And  write  my  mirth,  a  mocking  palimpsest — 
On  blotted  scrolls  of  human  pain  and  fear; 

And  never  see  the  heartache  interlined — 

Pity,  O  Son  of  David!     I  am  blind. 

I  do  not  see  the  pain  my  light  words  give; 

The  quivering,  shrinking  heart  I  cannot  see. 
So,  Light  of  Thought,  'midst  hidden  griefs  I  live, 

.And  mock  the  cypressed  tombs  with  sightless  glee; 
Open  mine  eyes,  Light,  blessed  ways  to  find — 
Jesus,  have  mercy  on  me — I  am  blind. 
36 


My  useless  eyes  are  reservoirs  of  tears, 

Doomed  for  their  blind  mistakes  to  overflow; 
To  weep  for  thoughtless  ways  of  wandering  years, 

Because  I  could  not  see — I  did  not  know. 
These  sightless  eyes — than  angriest  glance  less  kind- 
Light  of  the  World,  have  pity!    I  am  blind. 


37 


THE  FOURTH  COMRADE 

Famt-Heart. 

I  am  so  faint  of  heart  I  cannot  Stand — 

What  if  my  Lord's  war  standard  I  forsake? 
Would  I  might  die  ere  I  be  so  unmanned — 

Die,  ere  my  shouting  foes  their  onset  make! 

Little-Faith. 
I  am  so  weak  I  know  I  cannot  Fight; 

But  I  will  throw  myself  across  the  Trail, 
And  they  may  slay  me — but  that  barrier  slight 

Will  hold  them  while  they  kill  my  body  frail. 

Ready-to-Halt. 

I  am  so  lame  I  cannot  Overcome; 

But  some  strong  Fighter  with  my  Faith-wrought 

shield 

I'll  cover;  so  his  good  sword,  striking  home, 
Shall  win,  while  I  lie  bleeding  on  the  field. 

The  Battle. 

Sword-arm  to  Shield-arm  then  we  stood,  we  Three — 

And  smote  our  foes  as  Giants'  pygmies  smite; 
And  sang,  and  cheered — while  bringing  Victory, 

"  One  like  the  Son  of  God  "  stood  by  our  Fight! 


MANGER  AND  THRONE 

Holy,  and  pure,  and  whiter  than  flame, 
The  Heavenly  host  in  a  cloud  of  light — 

They  sang  to  the  Shepherds  His  loftiest  name, 
Filling  with  glory  the  Christmas  night; 

The  Babe  in  the  Manger  all  heaven  adored 

By  the  name  of  the  angels — Christ  the  Lord  I 

Now,  on  His  throne  exalted  high, 
King  of  kings,  and  of  lords  the  Lord, 

Heaven  and  earth  take  up  the  cry, 
The  universe  rings  with  the  mighty  chord — 

We  hail  His  crown  and  His  Scepter-rod 

With  the  Shepherd's  title— The  Lamb  of  God! 


39 


"OTHER  SHEEP  HAVE  I,  WHICH  ARE 
NOT  OF  THIS  FOLD" 

Some  there  are,  folded  beside  the  Waters  Still, 
Some  in  Green  Pastures  wait  the  Shepherd's  will; 
Some  in  safe  Folds  by  His  dear  hands  are  fed, 
Some  through  Death  Shadowed  Vales  by  Him  are  led. 
Some  follow  Him  in  evening's  tranquil  light; 
Some  wander  lost  through  desert,  storm,  and  night. 
He  knows  them  all  by  name;  sweet,  strong,  and  clear, 
They  hear  his  voice — and  Him  alone  they  hear. 
And  some  day,  in  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock — 
The  Shepherd  wills  it — "  There  shall  be  one  Flock." 


40 


"KEEP  SWEET  AND  KEEP  MOVIN' 

Homely  phrase  of  our  southland  bright — 

Keep  steady  step  to  the  flam  of  the  drum; 
Touch  to  the  left — eyes  to  the  right — 

Sing  with  the  soul  tho'  the  lips  be  dumb. 
Hard  to  be  good  when  the  wind's  in  the  east; 

Hard  to  be  gay  when  the  heart  is  down; 
When  "  they  that  trouble  you  are  increased," 

When  you  look  for  a  smile  and  see  a  frown. 

But 
"  Keep  sweet  and  keep  movin'." 


Hard  to  be  sweet  when  the  throng  is  dense, 
When  elbows  jostle  and  shoulders  crowd; 

Easy  to  give  and  to  take  offense 

When  the  touch  is  rough  and  the  voice  is  loud; 

Keep  to  the  right  "  in  the  city's  throng; 

"  Divide  the  road  "  on  the  broad  highway; 

There's  one  way  right  when  everything's  wrong; 

"  Easy  and  fair  goes  far  in  a  day." 

Just 
"  Keep  sweet  and  keep  movin'." 


The  quick  taunt  answers  the  hasty  word — 

The  lifetime  chance  for  a  "  help"  is  missed; 
The  muddiest  pool  is  a  fountain  stirred, 

A  kind  hand  clinched  makes  an  ugly  fist. 
When  the  nerves  are  tense  and  the  mind  is  vexed, 

The  spark  lies  close  to  the  magazine; 
Whisper  a  hope  to  the  soul  perplexed — 

Banish  the  fear  with  a  smile  serene — 

Just 
"  Keep  sweet  and  keep  movin'." 


THE  TALE  OF  THE  AGES 
(A  DAY  IN  PALESTINE) 

Strong-winged  hopes  and  childish  fears, 
Seconds  of  time  and  a  thousand  years; 
Shout  of  a  man,  and  a  baby's  breath, 
Pride  of  life,  and  the  throe  of  death. 

Rain  and  the  sun — the  Ploughman's  pain, 
The  Sower's  faith,  and  the  Reaper's  gain; 
A  victor's  wreath,  and  a  race  begun, 
Shock  of  the  storm,  and  the  kiss  of  the  sun. 

Poverty's  woe,  and  the  ease  of  wealth, 
Blight  of  disease,  and  the  bloom  of  health; 
Malice,  and  envy,  and  pitiless  hate, 
And  Love  that  conquers  and  changes  fate. 

All  that  you've  seen,  and  heard,  and  read, 
What  the  wise  have  done,  and  the  foolish  said; 
What  To-day  has  wrought  and  Yesterday  planned- 
The  Great  Big  World  in  a  little  Land. 


"MORE  THAN  THEY  ALL" 

"This  poor  widow  hath  cast  in  more  than  they  all." — Mark  12 :41. 

It  is  her  way  to  give  more — the  life  of  a  Woman  is  Giving; 

More  of  her  time — that  others  may  rest  at  ease; 
More  grief  for  the  dead  whom  she  loved — more  care  for 
the  living; 

More  of  her  thought  for  the  selfish  and  hard  to  please. 

More  to  her  country  she  gives  than  ever  the  soldier  or 

sailor; 

More  risk  of  her  life,  when  the  sailor  and  soldier  is  born; 
More  courage  of  soul,  when  the  bugles  of  battle  assail  her, 
When  from  his  nest  in  her  heart-strings  her  fledgling 
is  torn. 

More  patience  she  gives  to  the  dull;  to  the  weary  and  sad, 

more  of  pleasure; 
More  prayers  for  the  sinful;  more  help  for  the  weak 

and  the  lost; 
More  love — giving  all  of  its  heart-hoarded  perfume  and 

treasure; 

More  joy  in  the  giving,  forgetting  the  pain  and  the 
cost. 


43 


"ALL  RIGHT  HERE!" 

Waits  the  long  train  in  the  station  lights, 

Steadily  shine  the  stars  o'erhead; 
A  sword  of  flame,  the  headlight  smites 

The  rails  of  steel  into  silver  thread; 
The  platform  is  cleared  by  the  "  All  aboard!" 

Station-men  loiter  a  space  to  hear 
The  brakeman  echo  the  parting  word — 

From  step  to  step — sharp — positive — clear — 
"  Right!" 
"  All  Right!" 
"All  Right  Here!" 

Black  clouds  blot  out  the  star-shine  fair, 
The  train  roars  into  the  driving  rain; 
Lightnings  darken  the  headlight's  glare, 
Whirlwinds  grapple  the  bridge  amain; 
Gorges  foam  with  the  torrent's  wrath, 

Mountains  tremble  with  rage  and  fear; 
One  minute  a  signal  bars  the  path — 

Then  into  the  storm  with  the  cry  of  cheer — 
"  Right!" 
"  All  Right!" 
"  All  Right  Here!" 

Day  coach  and  smoker — mail  and  express — 
That  challenge  rings  through  the  starting  train; 

Back  in  the  Pullman's  cosiness 
The  sleepers  hear  it — and  sleep  again. 
44 


Let  the  storm  rage!    The  day  will  beam  I 

Vigilance  watches  by  rail  and  wheel; 
Duty  and  courage,  and  steel  and  steam, 
Blend  in  the  brakeman's  cheery  peal — 
"  Right!" 
"  All  Right!" 

"  All  Right  Here!" 

Swings  the  old  world  through  the  wrong  and  the  right, 

Storms  of  December  and  sweetness  of  June; 
Terror  of  darkness  and  gladness  of  light, 

Wrack  of  the  tempest  and  calm  of  the  noon; 
Here,  where  our  hearth  fire  tenderly  gleams, 

There,  by  the  farther  star,  steady  and  clear, 
The  Mighty  One  smiles  at  our  terrors  and  dreams, 
Hailing  the  days  of  each  on-coming  year — 
"  Right!" 
"  All  Right!" 

"  All  Right  Here!" 


45 


"PEACE  I  LEAVE  WITH  YOU" 

Peace!    And  his  own  life  crimsons  the  Roman  spear; 
Peace!     And  the  flaming  City  of  Peace  is  quenched 

in  blood! 
Peace!    And  his  martyrs  calendar  year  by  year 

With  the  numberless  deaths  that  darken  the  murderous 
flood. 

Peace!    And  a  thousand  years  of  war  twice  told  roll  by; 

Kingdom  and  empire  are  smitten  to  dust  by  the  sword; 
Armies  of  Christian  and  Pagan  clash  in  the  battle-cry 

Trampling  in  mad  contempt  the  legacy  of  the  Lord. 

If  war  must  be,  then,  let  us  make  war  'gainst  war; 

Let  us  fight  for  the  Prince  of  Peace  with  the  thorn- 
crowned  head; 
Let  us  drive  the  men  who  love  hate  to  go  on  before 

Till  we  count  but  the  makers  of  strife  as  our  dead. 

Let  the  Kings  and  the  war-makers  go  to  the  front  and 

die — 
Long  years  has  it  been  since  a  king  was  hurt  in  a 

fight; 
While  safe  in  our  peaceful  homes  with  our  kindred,  you 

and  I 

Will  shout,  in  the  place  of  the  king — "  God  speed  the 
Right!" 

For  that  sure,  is  safe,  sweet  and  pleasant,  to  pray  for  the 

right; 

We  will  make  it  our  morning-prayer  and  our  evensong; 
And  when  they  who  pretend  to  love  fighting  are  slain 

in  the  fight 

We  will  chant — "  The  Judge  of  the  Earth  can  do  no 
wrong!" 

46 


"MY  LORD  AND  MY  GOD!" 

How  do  I  know  He  is  Jesus  the  Lord? 

I  was  leprous,  and  foul,  and  mean; 
I  fell  at  His  feet,  and  He  lifted  me  up — 

Saying,  "  I  will!  be  clean!" 

How  do  I  know  He's  the  Christ  of  God? 
I  was  blind;  and  men  trampled  on  me; 
Have  pity!"  I  cried;  and  He  touched  my  eyes — 
"  Be  opened,"  He  said;  and  I  see! 

How  do  I  know  He's  the  Son  of  God? 

I  stood  by  His  cross,  afraid; 
For  I'd  driven  the  nails;  but  He  looked  upon  me- 

And,  "  Father,  forgive!"  He  prayed. 

How  do  I  know  He's  the  Living  God? 

In  corruption  of  sin  I  lay  dead; 
But  Life  Everlasting  thrilled  into  me,  when — 

"  Thy  sins  be  forgiven!"  He  said. 


47 


"  BUT-" 

II  KINGS  5:1. 

Standards  were  lowered  as  he  passed  by; 
Trumpets  saluted;  the  herald's  cry 
Echoed  his  titles  and  name  aloud; 
Bent  every  knee;  every  head  was  bowed. 
Escort  and  councilors — power  and  law — 
Hemmed  him  with  reverence,  honor  and  awe; 
Ransom  of  kingdoms  burned  and  gleamed, 
Gemmed  in  his  armor — a  god  he  seemed; 
His  deeds  were  themes  of  the  minstrel's  songs; 
Princes  loosened  his  sandal  thongs; 
Silken  his  couch,  and  he  breathed  the  air 
Magic  with  perfumes  faint  and  rare; 
Power  was  his  to  destroy  or  save — 
Tear  down  the  King,  and  exalt  the  slave — 

"  But— 
He  was  a  leper." 

JUDGES  16:21. 

Mightiest  man  earth  ever  saw — 
Strength  and  his  will  were  his  only  law; 
He  laughed  in  the  lion's  eyes  of  flame, 
And  played  "bare  hands"  for  the  joy  of  the  game; 
Held  out  his  wrists  for  the  seven-fold  cord, 
Then  slept  in  the  snare  of  the  foe  abhorred; 
Smote  till  he  wearied  of  death,  and  then 
Sported  with  Danger  for  pastime  again; 
Wrestled  with  Force,  and  trifled  with  Fate; 
Played  odds  with  Cunning;  tormented  Hate; 
48 


Hunted  for  Peril — sought  foes  far  and  near; 
Made  wreck  of  Disaster;  and  terrified  Fear — 

"  But— 

The  Philistines  took  him,  and  put  out  his  eyes, 
And  brought  him  down  to  Gaza, 
And  bound  him  with  fetters  of  brass, 
And  he  did  grind  in  the  prison  house." 

LUKE  12:20. 

Gold  rained  on  "  the  things  which  he  possessed  " 
He  owned  in  the  East,  he  bought  in  the  West; 
Lengthened  the  boundaries  of  his  lands, 
Dredged  in  the  rivers  of  shining  sands; 
Sent  out  his  ships  to  the  farthest  seas 
For  the  golden  fruit  of  Hesperides; 
Bent  thought  and  labor  to  do  his  will, 
Schemed,  and  succeeded,  and  increased  still; 
Multiplied  winnings  to  sums  untold; 
Stayed  all  his  ventures  to  anchors  of  gold; 
Heaped  up,  and  gathered;  reached  out  for  more, 
Till  there  was  no  room  for  his  growing  store; 
So  rich  in  "  possessions  "  he  did  not  know 
Where  his  "  fruits  and  his  goods  he  could  bestow 

"  But— 

God  said  to  Him,  '  Thou  Fool! 
This  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee  1 ' ' 
And  he  had  forgotten  that  he  had  a  soul. 


49 


LOVE  TRIUMPHANT 

Hate — and  Thou  hatest  sin  with  hate  eternal — 
Hate  could  not  pour  thy  wrath  upon  the  world, 

But  Love — that  drew  Thee  from  the  height  supernal 
Could  stay  the  flaming  bolt  that  Justice  hurled. 

Revenge  for  insult,  blow,  and  basest  treason 
Could  not  provoke  the  anger  of  thy  rod; 

But  Love  could  kiss  the  scourge,  and  make  a  reason 
For  loving  sinners  to  the  arms  of  God. 


CHRIST'S  PILGRIM-SOLDIER 

The  New  Year  Bells  ring  out  Christ's  "  Follow  Me!" 

I  will  leave  everything  and  follow  on; 
I  will  leave  Life  for  Immortality, 

This  world  I'll  leave  to  go  where  Christ  hath  gone. 
I'll  test  my  soul  against  the  powers  of  Sin; 

God's  Grace  in  me  against  temptation's  might; 
I  may  run  fainting — but  I'll  run  to  win; 

And  I  may  die — but  I  will  win  my  fight. 


TAKING  THE  CHANCES 

I've  taken  my  chances — one,  two  and  three — 
I  wonder  how  many  are  left  to  me? 

I've  lost  on  them  all — three,  two  and  one — 
And  the  final  reckoning  hasn't  begun. 

Once  to  Sin,  and  once  to  Shame, 
Once  to  a  smear  on  an  honored  Name. 

I've  taken  the  chances,  one  to  ten — 
Lost,  and  doubled,  and  lost  again. 

But  it's  early  yet,  and  I  can't  refuse; 
I've  plenty  of  years,  and  I've  lots  to  lose. 

Honor,  and  Truth,  and  a  little  Wealth; 

Love,  Home  and  Peace;  and  Youth  and  Health; 

Stack  them  together — they  make  a  Roll! 
And  then  there's  Body,  and  Mind — and  Soul  ! 

I  wish  I  could  know — I  wish  I  could  see 
Just  ere  my  Last  Chance  comes  to  me. 

For  the  grade  is  steep,  and  the  brakes  don't  hold; 
The  chasm  is  deep  and  the  curves  are  bold; 

The  light  grows  faint  and  the  pace  is  fast — 
God! — And  I'm  over  the  cliff  at  last! 


"JESUS  ONLY" 

"  Could  ye  not  watch  with  Me  one  hour  ?" 

We  would  not  watch  one  hour  with  Thee,  dear  Lord; 

We  would  not  share  the  burden  of  one  tear; 
We  would  not  look  upon  the  soul  out-poured 

For  Love's  dear  sake,  in  Calvary's  love-crowned  year. 

We  slept,  and  left  Thee  with  Thy  grief  sublime, 
Nor  whispered  one  faint  word  of  sympathy; 

Nor  for  one  hand-clasp  had  we  thought  or  time — 
We  slept — and  did  not  even  dream  of  Thee. 

Now,  God  forbid  that  we,  whose  love  was  dead, 
What  time  the  Son  of  God  His  vigil  kept, 

Should  tear  one  ray  of  glory  from  His  head, 
To  place  it  on  some  weakling  head  that  slept. 

To  Christ  alone,  who  suffered,  be  the  Praise! 

To  Him  who  bore  the  cross  alone,  the  Crown! 
To  "  Jesus  Only,"  through  the  endless  days, 

Be  glory,  honor,  worship,  power,  renown! 


S3 


THE  RICH  RULER 

"  Sell  that  thou  hast — give  to  the  poor." 

I  builded  my  Treasure-house  under  the  ground — 
Cavern  of  granite  with  doors  steel-bound; 

And  my  gold,  and  my  .gems,  and  my  jewels  there 
Safe-guarded  by  charms  and  magic  rare. 

My  Granaries,  proof  against  hunger  or  fear, 
Were  rich  with  the  harvest  of  many  a  year. 

And  I  watched  with  suspicion  my  fellows,  then, 
For  I  heard  the  whispers  of  starving  men. 

But,  once  on  the  desert  when  Hunger  spoke, 
My  crust  with  a  beggar  boy  I  broke. 

Then  the  wilderness  sang  with  a  multitude, 
For  the  barren  sands  were  fields  of  food. 

And  men  who  hated  my  iron  rod 
Coupled  my  name  with  the  name  of  God. 

Back  to  my  Granaries — mad  with  fear — 
Empty  as  husks  of  a  famine  year! 

But  I  sang  for  joy,  like  a  man  gone  mad, 
For  their  bounteous  emptiness  made  me  glad. 

Then  once,  when  a  blind  man  cried  for  alms, 
I  emptied  my  purse  in  his  shriveled  palms. 
54 


And  I  heard  the  blind,  and  the  poor,  and  the  lame, 
Shouting  with  praise  my  hated  name. 

Then  I  rushed  to  my  Treasure-house,  faint  with  dread- 
Dust,  Dust,  and  Dust — like  the  house  of  the  Dead! 

But  my  heart  was  so  light  that  I  laughed  and  cried; 
My  soul  with  Love  was  so  glorified; 

For  I  heard  from  heaven  the  dear  Christ  call — 
"  It  is  Mine,  my  child;  you  have  given  it  alll" 


55 


FAINT  HEART 

There  lies  your  rest — its  fountains  clear  to  clean  you; 
Sunshine  to  kiss  and  waving  palms  to  screen  you; 
Only  this  rushing  Jordan  flows  between  you! 
"  But  I  can't  swim." 

Beyond  the  mountains,  ready  for  your  reaping, 
Beckon  the  golden  harvests;  for  your  keeping 
Low  the  black  herds.    Climb,  while  the  world  is  sleeping! 
"  But  I  can't  climb." 

Night  swallows  up  the  day — ere  morning  overtakes  you, 
One  hard,  swift  march  thro'  rayless  midnight  makes  you 
King  of  a  realm — your  heritage  awakes  you! 
"  But  I'm  afraid  in  the  dark!" 

"  I'd  like  to  have  what's  coming  to  me,  surely 
But  in  the  desert  I  can  sleep  securely — " 
Just  then  a  hungry  lion,  prematurely, 
Asked  him  to  dinner. 


THE  TEACHER 

Dear  Teacher,  patient  with  our  childish  ways — 

Teach  us  the  common  things  of  common  days; 

While  careless  hands  the  dog-eared  pages  turn — 

Teach  us  the  easy  things,  so  hard  to  learn. 

The  Truth — that  needs  no  learning  to  declare — 

Pure,  white-souled  Truth,  than  noon-day  sun  more  fair; 

And  Faith — that  'midst  all  doubts  and  fears  and  woes, 

Sings  on  the  children's  lips — "  Well, — Teacher  knows!' 

And  Love — that  hath  ten  million  times  been  told; 

Love — that  is  older  than  the  world  is  old; 

Love — that  will  live  when  all  the  worlds  are  dead. 

When  these  great  little  lessons  have  been  said, 

Then  heaven  and  earth  in  one  great  school  will  meet — 

Learning  old  lessons  at  the  Teacher's  feet. 


57 


LOVE  THAT  SAVES 

Wayward  the  path  that  I  made  for  myself  when  I  said, 

"  My  soul  is  free!" 
Temptation   danced   in   a   flower-strewn  way — fair   as 

the  morning,  she; 

Folly  laughed  and  sang  at  my  side;  Pleasure  smiled  in 

my  face; 
Sin,  half  hidden,  coiled  'neath  the  rose,  gleaming  with 

sinuous  grace. 

What  was  there  in  the  beautiful  world,  but  laughter, 

and  pleasure,  and  song? 
Nothing  so  fair  could  ever  be  false;  nothing  so  sweet  be 

wrong! 

But  the  roses  of  morning  time  faded  away;  venomous 

thorns  appeared; 
Figures  of  grace  and  beauty  became  hideous  shapes 

that  I  feared. 

My  way  was  lost  in  the  wilderness  trails,  night  fell  star- 
less and  black; 

I  saw  the  terrors  of  Sinai's  mount — lightnings,  and  thun- 
ders, and  wrack. 

Death  stood  fast  on  the  way  I  must  go;  hell  yawned  under 

my  path; 
All  that  my  soul  might  hope  to  know  was  judgment  of 

God  and  His  wrath 

Crying  and  calling  the  long  night  through;  lo,  with  the 

dawn  of  day — 
Goodness  and  Mercy — angels  of  God — had  followed  me 

all  the  way. 

58 


THROUGH  STRIFE  TO  PEACE 

'  His  Banner  over  me  is  Love — " 
Love  Divine — O  Saviour  mine! 

His  grace  sustains  me  from  above — 
Saviour  mine — O  Love  Divine. 

My  soul  I  keep,  my  faith  I  hold, 

Against  temptations  manifold, 

Stand  for  His  Truth,  O  hearts  of  gold — 
Love  Divine — O  Saviour  mine! 

Beneath  the  Banner  white  as  snow — 

Son  of  God— O  King  Divine! 
My  shield  across  my  heart  I  throw, 

Prince  of  Peace — O  Saviour  mine. 
Help  me,  O  God,  thy  foes  to  smite, 
Teach  me  the  fight  of  Faith  to  fight, 
Nerve  thou  my  arm  for  Truth  and  Right — 

Love  Divine — O  Saviour  mine! 

Above  the  hills  I  see  the  dawn! 

Light  Divine — O  Light  Divine! 
My  night  of  watch  and  ward  are  gone — 

Saviour  mine — O  Saviour  mine! 
Come  unto  Me!"  I  hear  Him  say; 
My  armor  at  His  feet  I  lay — 
Hail!    Peace  of  God's  eternal  day! 

Saviour  mine — O  Saviour  mine! 


59 


"THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD' 

Midnight;  sorrow  and  loneliness; 
Darkness  and  fear  my  soul  distress; 
Dread  lest  never  the  morn  again 
Shine  on  the  darkened  ways  of  men; 
While  for  the  light  I  sigh  and  yearn — 
Lo,  overhead  the  white  stars  bum; 
And  darkness  is  beautiful — all  the  night 
Smiles  in  their  sweet  and  tranquil  Light. 

Dawn — and  the  arrows  of  the  Day 
Pierce  all  the  glooms  with  trembling  grey; 
The  diamond  stars  that  the  night  arrayed 
On  her  dusky  purples  faint  and  fade; 
The  east  with  royal  splendor  glows 
As  the  mom  unfolds  like  a  blushing  rose; 
Back  to  its  caverns  flies  the  night — 
And  the  world  is  new — baptized  in  Light. 

Noon — and  Day's  banners,  wide  unfurled, 
Enfold  with  radiance  all  the  world; 
The  playing  shadows  like  children  run 
To  hide  "neath  the  trees  from  the  laughing  sun; 
The  mountains  are  opals  that  burn  and  gleam 
In  the  changing  lights  of  the  golden  beam; 
The  sea  is  a  mirror  of  dimples  bright 
Kissed  by  the  dancing,  joyous  Light. 
60 


Down  the  sweet  slopes  of  the  afternoon 

Go  the  pilgrim  hours,  all  too  soon; 

Through  its  western  portals,  crimson  grey, 

Silently  passes  the  wearied  day; 

Twilight,  weaver  of  dreams  and  charms 

Gathers  the  world  in  her  tender  arms; 

On  her  brow,  where  the  beautiful  shadows  are 

Gleams  like  a  jewel  the  Evening  Star 

For  He  who  commanded  "  Let  there  be  Light,' 

Hath  spoken  again — "  There  shall  be  no  Night. 


6l 


DREAMS  AND  VISIONS 

There  once  was  a  sort  of  a  sailor  man — 
The  kind  that  loves  to  dream  and  plan; 
He  had  no  reverence  under  the  sun 
For  a  thing  that's  only  half-way  done. 
Made  no  difference,  it  appears, 
Had  it  been  that  way  ten  thousand  years. 
So  he  sailed  one  day,  out  into  the  sea, 
Past  the  bound  of  all  seas  that  used  to  be; 
Past  the  rim  of  the  world;  past  the  edge  of  things; 
Down  the  slant  of  the  sky  where  Chaos  springs; 
Past  the  hem  of  the  Twilight's  dusky  robe; 
Down  the  slope  of  the  globe — 'fore  there  was  a  globe! 
And  what  do  you  reckon  he  goes  and  does? 
Spoiled  every  map  of  the  world  there  was! 
But  he  made  a  better  one. 

And  there  once  was  a  man  who  had  an  "  idee  " 
That  everything  was  'cause  it  had  to  be. 
And  every  "  must,"  he  used  to  say, 
Had  a  law  behind  it,  plain  as  day; 
And  he  used  to  argue,  if  you  could  find 
The  law  that  gave  the  "  thing  "  its  mind, 
By  using  your  brains  and  hands  and  eyes, 
You  could  break  the  "  must  "  to  be  bridle- wise; 
Not  to  drive,  but  to  follow  you; 
To  do  the  thing  you  told  it  to; 
To  turn  the  "  must "  into  a  "  may," 
And  set  it  to  work,  instead  of  play. 
62 


Just  learn  to  use,  this  man,  said  he, 
A  vision,  instead  of  a  memory. 
So  he  got  to  thinking  one  day  about  steam; 
And  he'd  think,  and  study,  and  puzzle,  and  dream — 
And  when  he  got  through,  what  think  you  he'd  done? 
Wrecked  every  stage-coach  under  the  sun! 
But  he'd  made  a  better  one. 


THE  SHEPHERD 

When  I  was  a  shepherd  by  Bethlehem  town — 

David's  old  town — beautiful  town — 

An  innocent  Babe  from  Heaven  came  down, 

Sweet  into  Bethlehem  town. 
The  angels,  in  radiant  circles  on  high, 
Told  us,  with  anthem  and  jubilant  cry, 
How  He  came  to  redeem  us  from  burden  and  sigh — 

Cradled  in  Bethlehem  town. 

Then  I  once  Jed  my  sheep  around  Calvary  hill — 

Barren  and  chill — Love-girdled  still — 

And  I  heard  a  wild  cry,  ringing  fearful  and  shrill, 

Shrill  over  Calvary  hill. 

It  cried,  "  It  is  finished!"   Oh,  sorrow  and  shame! 
I  looked,  and  my  soul  was  in  anguish,  aflame, 
For  the  Man  on  the  Cross  and  the  Babe  were  the  same- 
Heart-breaking  Calvary  hill! 

So  I  led  my  white  flock  on  to  Bethany  here — 

Bethany  fair — Bethany  dear — 

And  a  voice  like  to  God's  in  the  air  I  could  hear — 

Sweet  over  Bethany  dear. 
I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  sun-kindled  cloud, 
My  lips  and  my  soul  sang  their  praises  aloud, 
To  the  Babe,  and  the  Man,  and  the  God  in  the  cloud- 
One  over  Bethany  dear! 

64 


Now  my  sheep  to  their  pasture  I  lead  to  the  plain — 
Hill-circled  plain — fountain-kissed  plain — 
But  at  even  I  gather  my  soft-bleating  train 

To  Bethany's  fold  once  again. 

For  in  dreams,  when  I  sleep,  I  can  see  Him  once  more 
With  His  sheltering  arms  as  I  saw  them  before, 
And  His  blessing  so  tender  I  hear  as  of  yore — 

Dear  in  its  tender  refrain. 

Bethlehem — Calvary — Bethany — ye — 
Sweeter  than  gardens  of  roses  to  me — 
Childhood — and  Manhood — and  Godhead  I  see — 
Wreathing  these  Love-haloed  Three. 


COURAGE  AND  LOVE 

O  Ships  of  War  that  keep  the  Peace 

With  black-lipped  guns  and  hearts  of  fire! 

When  die  the  flames,  and  thunders  cease, 
Sweet  Pity  soothes  the  fighting  ire. 

Then  drives  the  Life  boat  through  the  wave 
And  wreathing  war-clouds  disappear, 

While  lips  that  word  of  battle  gave, 

Whisper,  "  They're  dying,  boys — don't  cheer!' 


66 


"ABIDE  WITH  US" 

Abide  with  me,  Lord;  night  comes  on  apace, 

Black  clouds  shut  out  the  stars;  the  day  is  gone; 
Eternal  morning  shines  in  Thy  dear  face 

And  turns  my  midnight  into  radiant  dawn. 
Sorrow  hath  dimmed  the  twilight  of  my  day; 

With  bitter  tears  my  longing  eyes  are  blurred; 
Strengthen  my  steps  that  falter  in  the  way 

And  cheer  the  fainting  heart,  Thou  Living  Word! 


67 


"  AT  EVENING  TIME  IT  SHALL  BE  LIGHT" 

By  many  a  stony  path  have  I  been  led, 

On  rock-strewn  ways; 
Through  wintry  blasts  when  summer  flowers  were  dead; 

Through  storm-swept  days; 
Down  Sorrow's  steeps,  where  light  was  faint  and  dim; 

On  mountain  trails; 
Along  the  beetling  cliffs  I've  followed  Him 

Who  never  fails; 
In  Death's  dark  vale  of  fearful  shapes  and  shades, 

Where  every  Fear 
That  made  more  terrible  those  gloomy  glades 

Drew  Him  more  near. 
But  oh,  what  Joy,  forgetting  every  ill. 

To  rest  beside 
The  tranquil,  holy  Peace  of  Waters  still 

At  eventide. 


68 


A     000  065  338     6 


